Mockingbird
by The Rocket Dog
Summary: At the Academy, every student's name is entered into a lottery for the most desirable apprenticeships to the best witches and wizards. King Jareth is considered the worst Master anyone can obtain and so, naturally, Sarah Williams winds up as his student.
1. Of Bread and Kings

"Oh, Sarah, this is simply _awful_."

I raked my hands for the umpteenth time through Primrose's hair, cradling her head where it was buried in my lap. Her tiny fingers were clenched tightly around a slip of paper that had been drawn from the pool of student's names just moments before. Funny thing it was, that paper. Sarah Williams herself, being mortal and beyond the reach of anyone's curious eye, would not have ever been considered for the lottery, but to be drawn was the lust of every magic student at the academy.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," I lied dryly, while secretly thinking that Primrose wasn't nearly terrified enough. To be drawn to be the Goblin King's apprentice was the secret dread of all the students, though it was a risk obviously worth taking when apprenticeships to the great Kings and Lords were in the offering pot as well. Not to say that King Jareth wasn't adept at magic; he was as great a sorcerer as any, really. But he was the _Goblin_ King, ruler of an extremely unruly bunch who rarely consented to his control and so he usually was forced to let them run wild. He lived in a mangy old castle in the center of an ever-shifting Labyrinth that was said to be the home of many undesirable creatures. And not only were his surroundings and subjects the epitome of undesirable, the man himself left much to be desired. He was often described as surly and childish, prone to tantrums and other fits of immaturity. And when he was poised at his very best, he was still nigh intolerable, haughty and snide. I had attended one of his lectures held in the Academy the previous winter, and though I found his approach to tangible magic (that is, turning one's magic into something that could be seen and held) very interesting, his lecture had been given in dry, disinterested tones, the kind of voice you use with a child who has gotten on your last nerve. By the end of it, most of the other students in attendance had seemed more interested in watching him manipulate his crystals than the theory behind creating them, and the whole ordeal had ended with a rather unfortunate bang that involved a student being too interested in the King's juggling skills, asking for a repeat performance, and being turned into a goblin for his audacity. He was turned back in the end, though his head was perhaps a little bigger than it had been before.

Primose wiped the back of her hand across her nose, which compelled me to give her the handkerchief from my pocket. Watching her blow her snot all over my mother's careful needlework was like letting someone drive a quill in my eye, but I was raised a lady, and forced myself to allow her to blow herself dry, and only grimaced a little when she handed it back in a sodden wad.

"Sarah, you don't understand." Primrose gave me a half condescending, half pitying look, an expression I was used to from Fae. "You never had a chance of getting your name drawn. You never had to worry about this!"

_And I never got to hope, either. _To be fair to all students involved, the name of every person on the Academy roster was entered in the pool at least once. Humans and other undesirables were typically entered only once, but if you were the good graces of the officers who ran the Apprenticeship Department, that would guarantee you two slips of paper with your name on them. Half-breeds were usually entered anywhere from five to twenty times, depending on who your family was and how much money you had to your name. Pure-bred Fae children were always promised forty entries in their name, and even more if they happened to display magical talent that went above and beyond expectations. At the Academy, Fae outnumbered humans and half-breeds by about twenty to one, and so a human's odds at being drawn were considered completely laughable. The skewering of the odds had always rankled me to the bone, but it was their way of keeping the deeper secrets of witchcraft within the purely magic families. Humans who displayed magical talent were good enough to be taught cleaning spells and glamour charms, but were rarely educated beyond that.

Primrose sat up, sniffling, staring at me with wide, watery eyes. Even though she was a stuck-up snob from a rich family of elves, I couldn't help feeling slightly sorry her. Prim was a fair witch who performed adequately in most branches of magic, but she was from an old family that held great influence over the Academy's financial backings, and was used to showers of praise from her teachers. King Jareth, however, had no connection to her family, nor did he bow to whims of the Academy, and should Primrose be his apprentice, her days of favouritism were certainly numbered. I shook out my handkerchief, muttered a simple cleansing charm, and handed the newly-cleaned fabric back to her. She accepted it gratefully, though this time, to my immense pleasure, she merely dabbed at her wet eyes before handing it back to me. It vanished into the safety of my pocket once more.

"I wish there was something I could do, Prim," I sighed.

"You could take my place!" I was expecting that, and felt my mouth twist wryly. Primrose, who had been staring at me hopefully, saw my expression, and dropped her eyes to the ground where we sat, legs folded under ourselves. Her tiny hands twisted in the fabric of her dress. I tried to look at those hands and envision her pulling a crystal out of the air as the King had done, but I couldn't. Instead, all I can see is her bird-like frame sagging on the ground with the King looming over her, forcing her to try again and again until her knuckles cracked and bled. But even though these images turned my stomach and disgusted me, it was either her happiness or mine. And I chose mine.

"Prim. I have Tobias to think of." That wasn't a lie; my little brother was only a couple of years younger than I was, but he was like a child in so many ways – he wouldn't last a week without me there to put his food on the table for him. Not to say that he was helpless, oh no. He was turning out to be quite a skilled young wizard, in all actuality, and I wouldn't be surprised to find that his name had been entered twice this year. He was simply used to having me around. And maybe I took care of him more than I needed to. But I couldn't help that, not since our mother and father had died.

Her bottom lip came out defiantly. "I could take care of him!"

_Liar. _Primrose wouldn't know what boot went on the right foot if her maids didn't hold her hand while she dressed every morning. The idea of her being Tobias's guardian frightened me more than it did comfort me. My face seemed to convey my skepticism, for she scowled and looked away. Guilt at my nastiness washed over me, but I reminded myself that Primrose was not a friend. She was an ally, a fellow outcast, but never a friend.

Humans were social pariahs by social norm; they had no connections or mystical backgrounds, and weren't going to wind up in any great place, and so were generally ignored. I had not expected any better, and was perfectly fine with my status of outcast that I acquired when I began attending the Academy. Primrose, on the other hand, had not expected such a lackluster lifestyle. As an elf from a family as old as any, she should have had the very best of friends the Academy could offer. But she was thin. She was frail. Her eyes were a shade too pale. She was afflicted with an illness that had no known cure, and no known cause. The common speculation was that she was a bastard child and, according to legend, children born out of wedlock were afflicted with the wrath of the gods. Such explanations would have been perfectly sensible to me had I been nine years old, but I was nineteen, and a little more knowledgeable now. She never offered any theories about where her weakness had come from, so I was perfectly at ease to make one up myself, and was satisfied with my own explanation of a rare illness that afflicted only elves.

We had been drawn together by our similar positions in Academic life, but we were friends in the way Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin had been friends (there was an optional course at the Academy that delved into Aboveground history, which I found quite fascinating). We helped each other fight our battles against mutual enemies, but when the going got tough, favors were not to be expected. We were only partners so long as there was a common enemy to unite us. We had an understanding, and I appreciated her greatly, but not enough to take her place as King Jareth's apprentice. She seemed to sense this, for she did not attempt to convince me again.

Our temporary silence was broken by the pealing of the lunch bell. The Fae students began to migrate towards the dining hall, where they would feast on magnificent fares brought in by the latest hunting patrol. Even Primrose got up to follow, though she was not exclusively welcome; she didn't like me enough to tolerate my cooking, nor did she harbor any fondness for Tobias, and so preferred to eat with the rest of the aristocrats, even if it meant dining in solitude. I was never hurt by this; it was to be expected. And today, I relished our parting, for it meant that I could get away from her sullen attitude and relax for a few hours in my own home without worrying about keeping up appearances.

I got home first, as usual. Master Howell looked up sharply from his writing desk when I walked in, offered me his usual thin smile, and returned to his work. He was one of the stable masters of the area, though in his old age, was usually only called upon when a horse was sick or injured, or whenever the experience or wisdom of the elderly was needed. Though he had taken in Tobias and I when our parents had died, he was never "father" or any other affectionate nickname. He was Master Howell, and we always addressed him as such.

"Good afternoon, Master Howell."

He gave a noncommittal grunt and gestured to the table, where a loaf of bread sat next to a tub of butter and a slab of cheese. Meat was rare, and something served only at dinner time, so bread and butter was our usual for breakfast and lunch. The cheese was new, though, and had Master Howell been a more talkative man, I would have asked him how he got it. But he was not, so I kept my mouth shut and busied myself with pulling three plates from the cupboard – I would have gotten four, but the chunk of bread missing from the loaf told me that the Master had already had his share.

I was slicing the bread carefully into three equal portions when the door opened, and Tobias bounded in, filled with energy as usual. Gabriel followed more slowly. They both paused to greet the Master who waved them away as he had done to me, and the three of us took our usual places at the table, with me handing them the bread I had sliced before passing around the butter. Toby regarded the cheese with an expression akin to awe before turning to Master Howell.

"Master Howell, how did you get this?" The older man looked up from his desk to see Toby waving the cheese around. He sniffed and straightened his glasses, which had been perched precariously on the edge of his nose.

"Traded for it, obviously, you stupid boy."

Had he called Primrose stupid, she would have burst into tears and promptly fled, but we had been dealing with the Master's less than pleasant demeanor for over a decade. He never meant to insult, he merely wished to be left alone. Toby took the hint and, though looking disappointed, stopped waving the cheese and tore off a hunk of it instead, handing it off the Gabe, who took his share before leaving me with the rest.

Gabriel was the Master's son. He had no mother, who had been killed the same night as my parents. He was dark-skinned, dark-haired, and what most would call handsome, but he was not attractive to me in that way. We had lived together. He was as much my brother as Tobias was. He had seen me naked, and we slept in the same bed. To think of him romantically would be practically incestuous, and I know he viewed me in the same light. Being the Master's child gave him a slight leg up on other humans such as myself, and he was allowed to attend a school in the Academy that specialized in specific brands of magic. Another helping factor may have been that he was a man, and men, naturally, always had better chance at everything than women. Even Tobias had more options than I did, despite that he was younger. I could have been bitter about it, but what would that change? I had no right to be bitter towards Gabe – he was an amazing young man who consented to share his father with me so soon after losing his mother, and loved me enough to be my brother. Not to mention that he walked home with Tobias every single day. I didn't need some declaration of love to know that he was devoted to me. He saw himself as my brother, and that was enough.

"I heard Primrose got old Goblin Pants."

I grinned wryly in response – King Jareth, due to his vicious nature, earned himself a wide variety of equally vicious nicknames, "Goblin Pants" being one of the kinder ones. "Yes, she did."

Gabe and Tobias snickered. They weren't fond of Prim, and never had to pretend to be like I did to survive. "Don't," I snapped. "You wouldn't think it so funny if it had been your name drawn."

"Oh, don't act so noble," Toby choked out, spewing out a mouthful of bread. "Don't pretend you actually care about her."

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Chewing on his bread with a thoughtful air, Gabe swallowed and regarded me slyly. "Bet she asked you to take her place."

I huffed. "How ever did you guess?"

"Sixth sense." He tore his bread in half so he could eat it neatly. Toby was not so well-mannered, and tore enthusiastically into his, reemerging only to wipe the crumbs from his face. Gabriel looked on in amusement. "So, what'd you say?"

"No, obviously." I nibbled the corner of my bread. "Better her than me."

He nodded in response. Toby, on the other hand, looked thoughtful. "I think goblins are kind of cool."

My nose wrinkled. "They aren't. They're dirty, foul, disgusting-"

"-strong, clever, and incredibly hard to kill."

Master Howell sat down at the other end of the table opposite of Gabriel. He reached over to my plate and broke off a piece of my cheese. I protested half-heartedly, but only for the sake of protesting – I wouldn't have eaten it all anyways.

"King Jareth isn't the most likable of persons, but he is an incredible wizard." He gave me a sharp look over the rims of his glasses. "You should have told the brat yes."

I shifted uncomfortably. Master Howell didn't make speeches like this often, so whenever he spoke, his words were worth listening to. Perhaps to spare my feelings, Gabriel fabricated some excuse about having to leave early, and Toby willingly followed him out the door, leaving their lunches half-eaten. I know he had my best interests at heart, but I found myself wishing they had stayed - Master Howell's disproval was suffocating. He took off his glass to polish them against his tunic, but the fabric was dirty and not remotely capable of cleaning anything, so I suspected he was doing it to buy him time.

"I never worry about Gabriel or Tobias," he said quietly. "They are men, and they will always have more opportunity. Their future is fairly secure, so long as they continue to display cleverness and magical talent. Even if they cannot win an apprenticeship through the lottery, there will always be someone willing to tutor them."

I nodded. What he said was true; apprenticeships themselves were not rare. It was the contracts with the Lords and the Kings that were so sought after. But one could easily find a mentor in the local wizard or, more rarely, a witch. Most times, Fae children who were not granted their wish in the lottery were given first choice to the area's available magicians, but occasionally a human would snap up the spot. Gabe and Toby were strong enough and smart enough to contend even with the Fae. Had I been male, I would have been right there with them. But I wasn't.

"So…I should take Prim's place?" I hated the very idea of spending my apprenticeship in a castle filled with monsters, having to bow to the whims of their childish King. But Master Howell had done so much for my brother and I, and his words always had value; if he told me to get on my knees and lick the dirt from the floor, I'd gladly do so.

He regarded me calmly. "You should take opportunities when they present themselves to you. It may not be the most desirable or easiest path, but it will lead to a successful life, if you are willing to sacrifice a few comforts to achieve it."

His words rang in my ears as I trudged back up to the Academy grounds by myself, the leftover bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth in my hands, which I would deliver to Toby and Gabe. I was to wait and see how Prim's apprenticeship played out. If it was disastrous and she was ousted from her contract (a high dishonor, one that I doubt her family would never allow), I would volunteer to take her place. Seeing as how a contract had never been broken for longer than I had been alive, I felt relatively safe. I knew Master Howell had wanted me to take the position immediately, but I had not settled for that. As wise and sensible as he was, his words had my pride to contend with. Give me one more year, Master, I had said. I promise I'll find something. I couldn't accept that, as a woman, my chances of finding a mentor were dwindling with every year that passed.

The courtyard was still relatively empty, as a half hour remained before classes were to begin again for the afternoon. I had been aiming to sit on the edge of the fountain and perhaps steal the remaining slice of Gabe's bread, but something else caught my eye.

"…merely curious, Headmaster."

"Nothing to be curious about, really, Your Majesty, trades happen all the time."

That was Master Hale's voice, the Headmaster at the Academy. He was usually quite sunny and cheerful, and so his dry, impatient tones struck me as odd. His strained response was answered with a humorless laugh that set the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

"Don't lie to me. Who would possibly volunteer for me?"

Ladies didn't spy or eavesdrop, I know. But I had spent the better half of my life with all men, so I think I was allotted a few flaws in my manners. I ducked behind a nearby pillar to get closer to the conversation, and in doing so, ran right into Gabriel. He was alone.

"Where's Toby?" I hissed. He shrugged in response and turned his attention back to the two men speaking. But they must have been walking while they were speaking; their voices were getting farther away. Gabe and I both moved at once to follow them, but before we could move an inch, and earsplitting yell had us both jumping out of our skins.

"Sarah! Gabe!"

Tobias was sprinting towards us with a triumphant grin. "I've done it!"

I blinked, drawing up blank. Had he gotten the highest score on an exam? "Done what?"

Gabriel was looking nervously over his shoulder, and so I looked too and felt my stomach drop out beneath me; the pair had doubled back at the commotion and were standing behind us. The man on the left was the Headmaster, and he was a short, fat, dark-haired, and generally good-humored. Now, however, he looked slightly angry. On the right was a tall, lean man dressed head to toe in black. Wild blond hair framed a face that would have snared many women had he had a personality to match his beauty. The comical aspect of these two men, fat and thin, standing next to each other was not lost on me, but I could not bring myself to crack a smile. An insistent tugging on my sleeve made me look away. Toby was grinning up at me.

"I went into the Apprentice Department and Primrose was there! And I knew that you didn't want to do it, so I did!"

The only thing that kept me from falling to the ground was Gabe's iron-like grip on my shoulder. Toby seemed to sense something in our expressions, for his smile faltered. "What's wrong?"

Someone brushed by me. It was _him_. He walked by me and Gabriel without a single glance in our direction to loom menacingly over my brother, who had completely forgone his elation in favor of fear, if his pale face and wide eyes were anything to go by. And though Toby was actually taller than me now, he still looked so small compared to him, and I wanted to go to his defense, to push him behind my body, anything that shielded him from the penetrating, cold gaze.

"Who are you, boy?"

Toby was afraid, but afraid enough. His hands went to his hips and he lifted his chin defiantly. Had it been me, I would have been a cowering bundle of nerves. "Tobias."

The golden head cocked to one side. "And do you know who I am?"

He nodded tersely. "You're him. The Goblin King."


	2. Of Goblins and Memories

No.

I didn't realize I had spoken aloud until I was the subject of everyone's attention in the courtyard.

"Sarah, it's okay, I can handle it."

But my ears were still ringing with Master Howell's words from earlier. Toby and Gabe had opportunities. I didn't. The Goblin King was powerful, but he was nasty and cruel. Toby still had the bright air of youth around him; I couldn't subject him to lose that innocence any sooner than he had to. Not if there was something that I could do to prevent it.

The King looked faintly amused at my interjection. "I grow weary of being passed around from child to child," he said thinly.

_Maybe if you were a tad more pleasant, you would actually be wanted, _I thought fiercely, but I wasn't stupid enough to think I could say it and get away with it.

"My name is Sarah Williams and I volunteer to be your apprentice."

He laughed, but it was the same sarcastic laugh I had heard earlier. "Come now, princess, the last thing I want is a stupid apprentice. Certainly you know that one can't volunteer for an apprenticeship that is already filled by a willing student." He inclined his head towards Toby, who seemed to realize the mistake he had made. "Why should I pick you if he has already gladly filled the position?"

"Because he's a minor," I responded coldly. Behind the King's back, Toby bristles at this familiar excuse, one that I have employed against him in the past whenever he was invited to do something particularly dangerous. "He's only fifteen, and I am his legal guardian."

"One would think that would be a role fulfilled by parents," he quips dryly.

"They're dead." I didn't offer any explanation, but I did pause to enjoy the affect my words had. His eyes grew slightly wider before narrowing.

"Assuming you are his guardian, precious, who would take care of him if you were to leave?"

"I would."

Gabe saved me there – that was a question I didn't know how to answer, though for a moment I had almost considered saying Primrose. But Gabriel had sauntered forward out from behind the pillar to join in our conversation. My chest swelled with gratitude at the sight of him standing there, and I beam at him as the King turns to size him up. He responds with a terse nod; he can't do much else with the Goblin King bearing down on him.

"And you would be?"

"Her brother."

His eyes flick from me to Gabe, no doubt taking in my fair skin and comparing it to Gabriel's dark complexion, my almond-shaped eyes compared to his narrow ones, my short, narrow frame compared to his long, sinewy limbs. Neither of us offered an explanation for our differences, but perhaps he sees something alike in our mutual defiance, for he simply frowned and turned back to me.

"Be done with it, then." He then proceeded to give his full attention to the Headmaster, who had been watching the ordeal in silence, looking slightly confused.

Toby was shaking and he, like me, didn't want to give up without a fight. "Sarah, I know you don't want to. You don't have to. I can-"

I hushed him quickly. "You don't want to, either. And I can't just send you to him. You have so much ahead of you." I squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "You mind what Gabe tells you, and look after Master Howell. He's getting old, you know." He laughed. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you around."

"Gabe." He looked to me attentively. I opened my mouth to give him instructions, but then I realized that he would already know what I had to say. "Look after each other." He smiled thinly.

"You don't need to tell me twice."

An iron grip closed around my upper arm. It was strong like Gabriel's, but did not provide me with the same comfort. I don't need to look up to see who it is, or at least that's what I told myself. I really didn't want to look up because I was afraid that if I saw him leering down at me, I would lose my head completely. Instead, I stared straight at Gabe, who was frowning bravely at the King.

"What about her possessions?"

Possessions. When an apprentice was chosen by a potential master (or, in the case of the lottery, whenever an apprentice won a prestigious mentor), they were required to live in close quarters for a year. This was usually because the apprentice never lived in the same location as the master. In this case, the Goblin Kingdom was over three hundred miles away from this location. So, naturally, face to face communication would be highly unlikely. Therefore, the apprentice would join the master in their home, or, in rare cases where the apprentice could not leave their home, the master would come to them. In my mind's eye, I saw King Jareth living in my home, which consisted of a main room that made up the dining room, kitchen, and office, two cramped bedrooms, and a tiny bathroom that served as a place to wash clothes, use the toilet, and bathe. Had the situation not been so dire, I would have laughed again. The idea of a King in Master Howell's house was preposterous. But regardless of who went where, the person doing the moving was entitled to all of their possessions, assuming there was enough room for whatever they wanted to bring. And as the King lived in a castle, I was quite sure that if I could, I could pick up the whole house and bring it with me. Had he possessed the proper sense of humor, I would have made a joke about it, but I didn't dare.

I chanced a look upwards to see the King giving Gabriel a look of indifference. "A servant will be by to pick them up for her later. I've wasted enough time here."

And then they disappeared.

I wish he would have told me he was planning to do that. At first, I was terrified; everything around us was completely black, like the sun had set and an invisible hand had extinguished the stars and the moon. In response to my fear, it seemed, his grip tightened on my arm until it was painful, and I found myself tugging away from him to get him to let go.

"We are in a void between land and sky," he reprimands curtly. I stopped moving to look up at him; though he was right next to me, his voice sounded oddly far away, and the words don't match his mouth when it moves. It was like watching fireworks from a distance; one saw the explosion before they heard the boom. "If I release you, you'll be lost here forever."

The idea of being stranded forever in this black expanse of nothing was a damn slight more terrifying than the man who was currently transporting me through it and so, like a good girl, I calmed down, but stayed as far away from him as humanely possible in our current situation. The tips of my fingers were just starting to go numb when, quite suddenly, the inside of a very messy throne room materialized around us. I blinked in response to the brightness, and he let go of my arm extremely quickly, so fast that I swayed a little on me feet without his support. I examined my arm as he strode away. There were four deep welts there, an angry red against my pale skin. I wished he would heal them. A gentleman would heal them. Gabriel or Master Howell would have healed them.

_But you haven't go Gabriel or Master Howell, _I reminded myself sternly. _You've got the worst King in the Underground, and he'd sooner cut out his own heart and eat it before he'd heal you._

I rolled the sleeve down to cover the marks. If he wouldn't offer to help, I wouldn't ask. I wouldn't _beg_.

I surveyed the room around me, feeling distaste curl my lip. The home I had come from was in near-poverty, but I swept the dirt floor every night in an attempt to keep it tidy, Tobias washed the dishes, we all did our share laundry, and through our combined efforts to keep the house standing (as well as a magic trick here and there), my old home, while poor and shabby, had always been as neat as possible. So to look upon this absolute _filth _in the castle of a man who could afford the best of the best made me want to cough up my lunch. Black chicken feathers littered the floor, creating a soft blanket of down over the stone. Broken china, abandoned goblets, some still full with foul-smelling brews, and upturned buckets were strewn about everywhere. Boxes and crates were stacked ceiling-high. Pieces of fabric that may have once been tapestries or curtains were crumbled on the floor; several looked as though they were used as nests. And as for the creatures themselves responsible for this mess…there were none to be found. I found myself thanking whatever deity that had the nerve to get me into this predicament, but the mercy to at least soften the blow.

"Where are they?"

The King had thrown himself into his odd throne in the front of the room, and appeared to be reading an official document of sorts, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused. He pretended to come out of a deep reverie.

"Where are what, princess?"

I scowled darkly. "My name is Sarah. And the goblins. Where are the goblins?"

To my displeasure, he shrugged, as though the location of his subjects was beneath him. "I don't know, and I couldn't care less, Sally."

"Sarah."

He smirked. "A slip of the tongue."

"I'm sure."

Because antagonizing me seemed to amuse him, I stopped talking, and looked about the room once more. As far as cleaning spells go…the place wasn't that bad. It wasn't as though it were several huge disasters in the room, like the ceiling caving in or the walls falling down. The mess just stemmed from the little things that had built up over time unchecked. I waved my hand silently – a few of the nearby buckets fly to the opposite wall and stack themselves neatly. A small drop from the ocean of chaos, but progress is progress. I looked to the King, but he was pretending to be immersed in his reading again, and I took his lack of interest as permission to do as I'd like.

When I lowered my hands, I turned to see him watching me curiously, the document hanging limply from one hand while his head was propped up on the other. If he was impressed by or appreciative of my cleaning abilities, he didn't show it, save for the slighting widening of his eyes when he seemed to realize that yes, indeed, he did have a floor under all of those chicken feathers. Slightly fatigued, I sank down to the ground where I stood to take a rest, but even as my knees touched the stone floor, the King rose from his chair.

"It's unbecoming for a lady to kneel on the floor."

"I know," I snapped back, struggling back up to my feet. My sitting down and standing up had a dizzying effect on my head, and the newly-cleaned room shifted around me. He was suddenly next to me, his gloved hand closed around my arm, perhaps to steady me, but he had chosen the bruised arm and, with a yelp, I sprang back, tripping over the hem of my dress as I went.

My clumsiness was apparently amusing rather than annoying, for he laughed at me. The unpleasant sound of it fell on my ears like shards of glass, and I was compelled to rise to my feet quickly, if only to make it stop. My annoyance gave me a brief burst of energy and power that keeps my head straight on my shoulders, but who knew how long that would last me.

A gentleman wouldn't have laughed. But I had to remind myself again that I wasn't in the company of someone who had been raised to be civil. Or maybe he had been, but had been running wild for so long with his subjects, he had forgotten his manners and good grace.

"Your magic is adequate." He broke the silence that had fallen as he surveyed the room, which was probably cleaner than he had ever before seen it. "But, for someone your age, it could be doubly better."

"I'm human." I said blankly. It was common knowledge at the Academy that it was typical for a human to posses only the slightest bit of magic, just enough to get them by. Not that it was rare to come across a powerful human wizard, it was quite common, actually. But human powers measured up next to nothing to those of someone who was born with rivers of magic pouring through their veins, rather than a trickle.

He gave me a look that told me I had just sounded incredibly stupid. "Don't pay any mind to the tripe fed to you at the Academy. Any being born with magical abilities can shape them into something of power. Follow me."

His abrupt turn on his heel to sweep out of the room stunned me for a moment, and I had to jog to catch up with him. But before I could even slow to a walking pace at his heels, he turns swiftly to open a pair of double doors on the right and beckons me to go inside impatiently. I swerved around him and into the antechamber, and stopped dead on the spot, transfixed on the sight in front of me.

It can't be very long after noon, but the large table that dominated the entire room was groaning under the weight of scores of dishes that were settled on top of it. When my nose caught up with my eyes and I inhaled the scent of fresh food, it's only pleasing for a moment before it made my stomach start to churn with nausea. I, a girl who had practically been sleeping in stables, someone who had to clean out the bathroom when it was my turn, found myself sickened by the aroma of fresh food. Or maybe because there was so much of it – but it appeared to be that it was only for us, as I saw no one else in the hall.

"Two people can't eat all of that."

"How astute of you to notice." He swept by coldly before taking his place at one end of the table. The only other chair at the table was on the opposite end, which left about thirty feet of table space between us. Well, I guess that ruled out small talk. As I went to take what was apparently my place at the other end, I was intercepted by a short, ugly creature wearing a frilly blue dress.

I had never seen a goblin, save for picture books when I was little, as well as the more detailed illustrations from the history books. They were usually depicted as particularly grotesque, but I had always thought the artists had been exaggerating their features. They hadn't. A precariously large head sat atop a disproportionately slender body. Everything about the head seemed too large; the ears looked like they would sustain it in flight if it leapt off a cliff, and a considerable amount of hair sprouted from each ear. Its eyes were wide, and glazed with a look that suggested little activity upstairs. Beneath them was a nose the size and shape of a tomato, followed by an unnaturally wide mouth that was currently split in a grin, which proudly displayed all seven of its teeth. I didn't know exactly why, but I had always envisioned goblins as male. But when this one spoke in a voice high enough to crack glass, my assumptions were banished.

"What would the Lady be desiring, Miss?"

I blinked at it – her, I supposed – stupidly. "What?"

She smiled. "Anything the Lady wishes to eat, Miss, Maxee will serve!"

A servant to serve me food that I could easily get myself? The idea seemed preposterous. I looked to see what the King thought of this situation, only to find him slumped in his chair, his eyes half-closed, head propped up on his elbow. Maxee followed my gaze, and her ears drooped somewhat.

"Whenever King has a long day, Lady, he will slouch like that for hours," she staged whispered. "He always has such terrible tempers after the lottery-"

"Enough, Maxee." His sharp voice dispelled any impression that he may have been asleep. "I don't keep you in my service to listen to your idle chatter."

She curtsied towards him, even though he hadn't turned to look at us. "Yes, King. Lady," she spun back to me so quickly my eyes almost rolled in their sockets, "what is it you wish to be eating?"

The goblin looked to eager to please, I couldn't refuse her offer, and allowed my eyes to sweep up and down the table. Unsurprisingly, most of the food wasn't familiar to me, but that didn't stop me from secretly appreciating the foods that I did recognize. Oranges, for example, garnished what looked like a white-frosted cake near the center of the table; oranges didn't grow in the dry air of the Underground. To obtain them, they had to be imported from Aboveground, a black trade, for it would be sure to arouse suspicion if harvesters noticed their fruit supply dwindling. Needless to say, they were incredibly rare, and I had only heard stories that rich girls told about the lengths their families went to procure them. I was itching to try one, just for the experience, but then I remembered Gabe, Toby, and Master Howell, living off of bread and butter, and the desire sputtered and died. I clenched my jaw and turned to Maxee, who beamed up at me expectantly. "Bread and butter, please."

I sat, smoothing my dress around me carefully, and had only the time to pull my chair up closer to the table before Maxee bounded back merrily, carrying an expensive-looking plate heaped with bread.

"What else would the Lady desire?"

I looked up to see the King regarding me with a cool expression, as though daring me to refuse what he was offering. I dared. One did not attend school with catty females like Primrose, after all, without growing a little backbone to deal with them. I felt my resolve strengthen as I tipped my chin up slightly.

"That's all."

**888888888888**

"Undress."

The simple command caught me off guard. "Excuse me?"

After the mostly-silent meal (broken only by Maxee's titters and attempts to feed me more substantial food), we had returned to the throne room. The goblins were still missing, leaving us to ourselves. He had taken up his spot on the throne, swinging one leg haphazardly over the arm and leaning against the other. I had been perfectly fine with sitting on one of the stone steps leading up to the ornate chair, content with staring off into space and pretending like I didn't feel his gaze burning into the side of my head.

He made an impatient noise. "Performing magic, as I'm sure you know, is very taxing on the body and mind. Some brands -" he flicked his wrist effortlessly and a crystal appeared "- are more exhausting than others. One must be in near-perfect health to expect to learn."

That made sense. I reached behind me to fumble with the lacings of my dress; Gabe was always willing to offer to lace me up or loosen me, depending on the time of day, but he wasn't here, and I had rather forgotten the basics of undoing a dress. Not to mention that he tied a rather tight knot that I was having trouble undoing. My blunt nails picked at it before I turned to the King, feeling slightly foolish, only to find him staring at me with a surprised look on his face.

"What?"

The surprise turned to a look of disdain. "You seem to be accustomed to undressing in front of men."

I couldn't help but laugh at him. "I live with men. I swam in the lake with my friends back home." What, did he expect me to swim in my dress? Did he think that after sharing a room with two boys for ten years, that they had never walked in on me naked, or vice versa? Toby usually made a dramatic show about it, but Gabriel had long stopped caring, and so had I. My body didn't shame me.

The King gave me an odd look. "I am a stranger to you. How do you know you can trust me?"

"What trust is there to be given?" I snapped harshly, still pawing at the lace. "If this is just a simple test of strength as you say it is, I don't see why I have to trust you."

My nail ripped. My other hand automatically went to comfort it, and for a moment, my hand tingled with warmth as I muttered a weak healing charm. The nail healed, leaving only a ghost of pain behind. Before I could reach back to have another go at the knot, I felt a fingertip trail down my spine, and the lace unraveled in its wake.

"Stand up." I stood.

He pulled the back of my dress apart the rest of the way before pushing it off of my shoulders. I pulled my hair from behind me where it flowed down my back to over my shoulder, where it would be out of the way. His cold, gloved hands rested firmly on my back, feeling every muscle and bone there as they ran roughly over the skin. I found his touch rather disconcerting, feeling more and more like a prize horse being warmed up before the championship race. He pulled out my arms, ran his hand down to my fingertips and back up again. He turned my hands over in his, and he examined the roughness of my palms, commented on the white scars from burns on my fingers and asked me where I got them. Cooking, of course, I replied. My dress fell to the ground completely, and the moment it touched the stone floor, it vanished.

"Where did my dress go?"

I don't know if he heard me or if he was simply ignoring me. He knelt down and touched my legs carefully, prodding here and there, digging his fingers into a spot behind my knee that almost made my legs give out. He seemed to deem that an appropriate reaction, for, after a swift look at my feet, he stood up swiftly and turned me around. And the difference between Gabriel and the Goblin King struck me; while Gabe and I were at ease around each other's bodies, we didn't go out of our way to look directly at each other. The urge to do so simply wasn't there. But the way the King's eyes swept closely over my body made my skin crawl with a mixture of fear and embarrassment, and I would have sacrificed whatever I had to offer to creep back into the safety of my dress.

His hands cupped my face and lifted my head until I was looking straight into his eyes. They were a strange pair; both were the same shade of dark blue, but while one pupil was normal, the other was dilated, as though he were trying to see in the dark. Before I could take in any more details, however, I felt an uncomfortable throbbing in my temples, where the tips of his fingers were touching my face. And then they rose to the forefront of my mind; memories, spinning sickeningly fast behind my eyes. A handsome man taking his horse over impressive leaps to amuse two dark-haired children and a pretty blond woman…that same horse among an entire herd of animals fleeing out of a cloud of smoke and ash, where the barest hint of orange flame is visible…the dark-haired girl pounding resolutely on a shabby wooden door, which opens to reveal a dark-skinned boy her age, who stares open-mouthed at the smoke-stained girl keeled over in front of him, holding her younger brother in her arms…

"ENOUGH!"

My hands pushed furiously into his chest as I shoved him away angrily. When the skin contact was broken, the crystal-clear memories faded away into the recess of my thoughts where they belonged, though the phantom scent of smoke and ash lingered in my nostrils. The King staggered and fell onto his backside. He glowered up at me in anger, and had I not been furious at the breach of my mind, my very own personal place, I would have relented and asked forgiveness. My body was of little consequence; flesh healed over time, any burns sustained by it fading into pearly white scars that only hindered me in conversation, when others were prone to stare at them openly. He could openly stare at me all he wanted. But the mind never heals. The memories of how I got those scars were far more painful than the burns themselves, and I didn't take lightly attempts to gain that sort of information by unwarranted intrusion.

But he was strong, and had blood strengthened by centuries of carful magical breeding, and he was back on his feet before I could even cross my arms in agitation, grabbing me by the shoulders and yanking me towards him, fingers digging painfully into my skin. I was expecting a vicious reprimand about how one should never lay hand on a person of royalty when their life is worth so much more than mine blah blah blah, but he doesn't spew out the obscenities I was expecting.

"How did you really burn your hands?"

_I pulled a piece of burning wood off of my little brother's back. You should see _his _scars. _I didn't want to tell him of my past. It was something that I myself rarely ever thought of. As far as I was concerned, my life began at age eleven, where I magically appeared in Master Howell's living room and he graciously allowed me and Tobias to stay with him as his children. Thinking of any time before that is wishful thinking at best, and wishful thinking was wasteful thinking. I could have lied and stuck to my cooking story, which he probably hadn't believed anyways, but he had probably already guessed, probably already seen enough of my mind to figure that there had been a fire, and before the fire, there had been a family. I reigned in my thoughts. Wishful thinking was wasteful thinking.

"A fire."

His eyes narrowed. "So I can tell. What caused this fire?"

"The wars."

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and I felt a savage sort of triumph for unnerving him.

The land I called home, where I had lived with Master Howell and Gabriel and Toby, was famous for breeding strong horses, both for racing and for war. The Elf lands produced healing herbs and powerful potion recipes for hospitals and infirmaries. The goblins, for all of their stupidity and vulgarity, were very good at mining for iron ore and also had a knack for making weapons out of what they found. Iron will not harm an Aboveground human. To a magic-touched human like me, it would take extensive exposure to become poisoned (like getting skewered through the stomach, for example, but in any case, the skewering itself would probably do the job before the poison got to you). To a full-blooded fae, however, a simple prick from a needle made of iron would be enough to make them drop dead on the spot. For all of their setbacks, goblins were one of the few creatures who could handle the material without putting themselves at risk. And such deadly weapons were attractive items. Weapons of iron were even wielded by fae-creatures, though they took the proper precautions to carry them. The particularly savage felt powerful for mastering such deadly items, and with power came greed. With greed came war; sometimes, battles are purely political, and animosities are left on the debate floor. But in this case, this was total warfare. And though the Goblin King had little to nothing to do with the actual war itself, he had supplied the enemy with the deadliest weapons to be found Underground. Naturally, after the wars had ended, the order to stop all production of iron-based mining and weapon production had fallen onto his kingdom. The goblins still mined for precious materials that generated great incomes for his land, but the blemish was hard to avoid.

Just another unpleasant fact about the Goblin King.

With a wave of his hand, the dress materialized on my shoulders once again, and I felt the laces in the back do themselves up. I studied him; his face looked a shade paler than it had been, and his eyes were dark. I took his refusal to respond as a silent order to never bring up the wars ever again, something that I could easily do.

"You're too thin. And while your mind is healthy, it is…dragged down with unpleasant memories." He took a seat in his throne once more.

My voice was pure acid. "My apologies, I'm sure."

He snorted. "If you expect to be anything akin to greatness, you can't wallow in the past. Don't suppress your memories. Accept them, embrace them for what they are, and let them go."

It's the sort of fortune-cookie wisdom that Master Howell would have told me. And if I had been listening to Master Howell, I would have made an honest attempt to follow those instructions. But I wasn't. I was listening to Jareth, and…I was his apprentice. I was supposed to listen to him. Feeling wretched, I inclined my head, but offered no words. Looking satisfied, a crystal appeared in his hand and he offered it to me.

"This will bring you to your rooms. Don't leave until you are summoned."

There were a thousand words that were burning to leave my mouth, but took the crystal anyways, recognizing the dismissal, and it brought me to a fancy, many-roomed apartment that was already stocked with my belongings. I took in the sight of my familiar things, and tried to be glad that they were there, but found that I didn't really feel much of anything.


End file.
